


Our Own

by CoffeeQuill



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Comfort Sex, Defensive Hamilton, Defensive Lafayette, Defensive Mulligan, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Hurt/Comfort, Laurens Love, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8956888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeQuill/pseuds/CoffeeQuill
Summary: John is assaulted by a drunk soldier in camp and is both saved and comforted by his lovers.Alexander discovers that their relationship hasn't been so secret.





	

John comes apart so prettily in the hands of his lovers.

A few strokes to his cock to get him hard and squirming. Kisses to his neck to get him flushed. Undivided attention from three men to have him feeling loved. To say John is the baby of the group is incredibly accurate.

“Don’t let it get to you, John,” Alexander whispers against his ear, pressing soft kisses to his jaw. “You belong to us.”

“We’ll make sure Bishop is punished,” Lafayette growls, boxing John in on the other side.

John whimpers and pants, squirming under their hot kisses and the way Hercules’ mouth settles over his cock. He’s grateful for the comfort they’re giving him, blinding him from the pain of his black eye, bruised cheek and split lip and instead bringing his focus to their love and pleasure.

“You’re _beautiful_ , John.” Alexander murmurs. “So precious…”

“So strong,” Laf says, before beginning to suck a hickey to John’s collarbone.

“The G-General,” John moans, reaching out to grasp Alexander’s arm. “He’ll - he’ll be angry-”

“We’ll explain to him,” Alexander says, grasping John’s hand in his own, his knuckles still bloody and drying. “He won’t stand for any soldier assaulting one of his boys.”

“You didn’t start it, _mon étoile_ ,” Laf reassures him, pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

John can’t respond, instead crying out and curling his toes as Hercules gives a hard suck around his cock. “F-Fuck, fuck…”

“Do you want to cum, baby boy?” Alexander drawls, his hand slipping down to John’s navel where he softly rubs circles.

“Please,” John begs.

“Herc,” Alexander says, before his fingers begin to trace the v-shape of John’s hips; his fingernails graze the inside of the man’s thighs, running over the crease between his thigh and pelvis.

Hercules pulls away, grasping John’s spit-slicked cock with a smirk. “Relax, little one,” he says, beginning to pump his hand. “We can’t have you being too loud, or someone will hear you.”

John nods shakily, his cheeks red with blush as he squeezes Alexander’s hand. A whine escapes his throat and he lifts his hips, beginning to pant as Hercules moves his hand faster. “P-Please, more…”

“Come for us, sweet boy,” Laf growls, one hand wrapping around John’s thigh and pulling it up to his own hip.

John pants, stray curls falling from his loose ponytail and falling before his face. “H-Herc - fuck - I-I’m so c-close…”

Alexander’s cold hand slips behind John’s cock to his balls and takes them in his hand, giving a squeeze before starting to massage, and a strained whine escapes John’s throat; he’s so _fucking_ close, teetering on the edge, and it feels _so_ good to be surrounded by his lovers-

Hercules’ mouth closes around his cock again and he can’t stop the _keen_ that pulls itself from his throat; Alex is quick to silence him, and he moans into the man’s mouth as his hips jerk and his back arches. Stars flash behind his eyes and tears threaten to spill.

It’s the most blissful orgasm he’s had in weeks.

“Wonderful,” Lafayette murmurs, pressing a kiss to John’s sweat-slicked skin. “Our perfect John…” He continues to mutter endearments in French. Alex and Hercules release their hold on him and Hercules goes to fetch a handkerchief to clean up.

“Thank you,” John whispers.

Alex gives him a kiss with a pleased smile on his face.

Two sharp knocks on the door grab their attention and they look up. “Who is it?” Alexander calls.

“Tilghman,” comes the voice of their fellow aide. “... His Excellency wants to see you, Alexander. Immediately, he said.”

Alexander shares a glance with John, who looks at him with a nervous expression. “Just a moment,” he calls, before he squeezes John’s hand and walks to the door.

“Bring something cold when you come back, Alexander,” Lafayette calls, his voice soft. “His eye is still swollen.”

He nods before he opens the door just enough to slip through, not revealing the men resting in his bed. “Did His Excellency say why he wants to see me?” he asks, shutting it behind him.

Tilghman shakes his head, holding a stack of letters against his chest. “No, but he did seem irritated. Did you do something?”

“Not me,” Alexander mutters before turning and walking down the hallway.

\-----

Washington’s office is clean and organized, looking freshly dusted and swept when Alexander steps in. The General himself is signing a paper - one of the many letters his aides write for him.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Alexander asks, shutting the door behind him.

Washington looks up, then sighs and sets down his quill. “Yes, Hamilton. Sit down.”

Alexander slides into one of the two seats in front of Washington’s desk with an air of confidence.

Washington looks at him for a moment, eyes flashing to the dried blood on Alexander’s knuckles. “Do you know what i’m about to talk to you about, Alex?”

“I believe I do, sir,”

“Then you can start first.”

Alexander looks at him for a moment, gathering his arguments together. “It wasn’t Laurens’ fault, sir. He didn’t start the fight.”

“So it _was_ Laurens,” Washington says, leaning back in his chair.

“You - You didn’t know?” Alexander blinks.

“I knew that two of my soldiers had recklessly started fighting in the middle of the camp, and it was you and Lafayette who had taken it upon themselves to beat one of them within an inch of his life. Considering the vicious description of your attack, I had presumed it involved Laurens. It seems I am correct.”

“It was William Bishop, sir,” Alexander growls. “You would understand if you had been there. He was drunk and calling Laurens a queer, asking if he was just here as a free whore for the aides, if he was a - it was _disgusting_ , sir. We couldn’t stand by.”

“So you fought Laurens’ battle for him.”

“He was being _pummeled_ , sir. He’s bruised all over. We couldn’t stand by and watch that drunken bastard beat him.”

“Oh, Alexander…” Washington sighs. “I understand the dynamic you have going on with the others. I understand that you all hold affections for each other. But it cannot continue if it will cause problems, and _this_ is a problem. I have two bloodied soldiers, one beaten up and the other still unconscious.”

“Bishop deserves it,” Alexander snaps, too much anger in his system.

“Whether or not it was deserved is not the issue,” Washington says. “You could have killed a man today. There may not have been an issue at all if you four knew to keep everything private.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s according to Tilghman that there have been times at the tavern where Laurens and one of you would slip away for varying lengths of time and come back smelling of semen. If Bishop had a reason to throw such accusations at Laurens, it is because the four of you haven’t been _careful_. If your relationship is revealed, there is only so much I can do to protect you.”

Alexander only looks at him, not sure what to say.

“When Bishop wakes up, I will have him apologize to Laurens for both his words and his actions. I will also have you and Lafayette apologize for jumping into a fight that did not involve either of y-”

“ _Apologize_? For defending John? Sir, that’s ridicul-”

“He had no chance against both of you. I cannot have discord among my troops, Alexander, or things will begin to fall apart. All of the apologies will be in private and you will move on.”

Alexander crosses his arms. “He does not deserve an apology.”

“I said an apology, Hamilton, not your forgiveness. Now go.”

“But _sir-_ ”

“Go to John, Alex. Now.”

Alexander stares at him, then stands and marches to the door with clenched fists.

He’d give Bishop one hell of an apology for hurting their John. But first, he would fetch ice and a cloth to bring down his swelling.

**Author's Note:**

> Send prompts to my tumblr! coffee-quill.tumblr.com
> 
> This is intended to be a standalone, but if anyone enjoys it, I'll post a second chapter.


End file.
